[The Trailblazer's Stellaron-molten gold glance is searing, the way it so openly and hungrily rakes over the body underneath him. Clearly drinking in the handiwork he's wrought, relishing it. Luocha doesn't want to think about it--doesn't want to indulge it--the debauched picture he must certainly be painting this moment, for Caelus, for the surveillance over the room, for any other eyes this footage might yet pass to beyond this day. Not when there's nothing to be done about it anyhow, still firmly trapped as he is between the seat and Caelus's two--three fingers, relentless in their invading rhythm. The ache of being so patiently loosened intertwines maddeningly with periodic jabs of pleasure; every nerve ending in Luocha's body feels aflame, all the more sensitive for it. ...Which means it's that much more difficult, to try tuning out the hand that eventually traces the lean-muscled lines of his torso and waist with such fascination. Curves over his hip and belly, as if Caelus is already mapping out where he'll be gripping to bruise.
The thought should be sickening. Insulting. --It is both of those things, and yet, and yet. Caelus withdraws, pinning weight briefly no longer straddling Luocha's lap, fingertips no longer probing into his prostate, and the sense of reprieve that should have accompanied the separation--is tainted by a desperation too, irrational, treasonous. To be left opened and aching, still denied relief. To find something half like dread and half like a thrill chasing up the back of his neck, watching Caelus strip off his clothing, cock full and eager as soon as it's pulled free.
It's probably hard to tell whether the cutting heat in Luocha's glare is closer to helpless fury or bitter arousal. Perhaps it's somewhere in between.]
You thought--you thought-- [No longer drawing entirely blank in this lapse of physical teasing, but there's still a breathlessness in his words, a vehemence bordering on raw. His voice is finally just a bit less than entirely steady.] Did you doubt you'd enjoy this? Yet now you have power, and you can consume as you please. That is its nature--even if it's not yours.
[No...it's not Caelus the vessel's. Even driven to this kind of distraction, Luocha can still draw upon this much, of past conclusions drawn long before this meeting in this cell. The boy who so happily runs errands and requests for others, who could not stomach countless sacrificed lives for a higher cause, who still looked pained in the first moments of letting the Stellaron take the reigns here. (....And, truly, this is an insult too. That he must take this degradation from someone who's likely going to regret doing it. Someone that likely cannot even properly deaden his own heart to it--)]
When you leave this place you won't even enjoy looking back on this, will you? You...
[Perhaps there might have been some sort of insult there. But it dies in his throat, as Caelus is moving back in--as hands pull apart his thighs, hoist his legs, a grip too harsh to resist despite a moment's strain on Luocha's part. Loose jade chain links clink with the movement from the floor. He does not wrap his legs around Caelus's waist--(yet)--but either way, there's nothing to fetter the heat of the cockhead that presses against his rim. Nothing to offer any resistance at all, no, as Caelus pushes in luridly easily.
There aren't more immediate words for Luocha to draw up, again, nothing that can quite get around the sensation of that hard and hot length of cock slotting inside him. Just the twitching of Caelus's pleasured pause is already distinctly felt against sensitive walls trying to adjust--but the Trailblazer doesn't start moving yet, and the delay is an agony of its own. Cock damp and flush against his abdomen as it throbs for release, Luocha's hips shift, his body already searching for any bit of new friction against his core. --But unable to produce much movement at all, in this position. Entirely at the mercy of Caelus's own pace. Luocha's breath hitches; his voice comes out low and shamefully needy even to his own ears, too late to bite back.]
no subject
The thought should be sickening. Insulting. --It is both of those things, and yet, and yet. Caelus withdraws, pinning weight briefly no longer straddling Luocha's lap, fingertips no longer probing into his prostate, and the sense of reprieve that should have accompanied the separation--is tainted by a desperation too, irrational, treasonous. To be left opened and aching, still denied relief. To find something half like dread and half like a thrill chasing up the back of his neck, watching Caelus strip off his clothing, cock full and eager as soon as it's pulled free.
It's probably hard to tell whether the cutting heat in Luocha's glare is closer to helpless fury or bitter arousal. Perhaps it's somewhere in between.]
You thought--you thought-- [No longer drawing entirely blank in this lapse of physical teasing, but there's still a breathlessness in his words, a vehemence bordering on raw. His voice is finally just a bit less than entirely steady.] Did you doubt you'd enjoy this? Yet now you have power, and you can consume as you please. That is its nature--even if it's not yours.
[No...it's not Caelus the vessel's. Even driven to this kind of distraction, Luocha can still draw upon this much, of past conclusions drawn long before this meeting in this cell. The boy who so happily runs errands and requests for others, who could not stomach countless sacrificed lives for a higher cause, who still looked pained in the first moments of letting the Stellaron take the reigns here. (....And, truly, this is an insult too. That he must take this degradation from someone who's likely going to regret doing it. Someone that likely cannot even properly deaden his own heart to it--)]
When you leave this place you won't even enjoy looking back on this, will you? You...
[Perhaps there might have been some sort of insult there. But it dies in his throat, as Caelus is moving back in--as hands pull apart his thighs, hoist his legs, a grip too harsh to resist despite a moment's strain on Luocha's part. Loose jade chain links clink with the movement from the floor. He does not wrap his legs around Caelus's waist--(yet)--but either way, there's nothing to fetter the heat of the cockhead that presses against his rim. Nothing to offer any resistance at all, no, as Caelus pushes in luridly easily.
There aren't more immediate words for Luocha to draw up, again, nothing that can quite get around the sensation of that hard and hot length of cock slotting inside him. Just the twitching of Caelus's pleasured pause is already distinctly felt against sensitive walls trying to adjust--but the Trailblazer doesn't start moving yet, and the delay is an agony of its own. Cock damp and flush against his abdomen as it throbs for release, Luocha's hips shift, his body already searching for any bit of new friction against his core. --But unable to produce much movement at all, in this position. Entirely at the mercy of Caelus's own pace. Luocha's breath hitches; his voice comes out low and shamefully needy even to his own ears, too late to bite back.]
Fuck me, damn you--